Once Upon A Red Apple Clear
by fictionalcandie
Summary: In which Draco discovers a deeply rooted dislike of mistletoe, and a rather odd stranger apparently obssessed with... fruit. [Oneshot.]


**Disclaimer:** Characters and settings are not mine. I own nothing, I make no money. We get used to it.

**Warning:** Some mild implied slash.

**Author's Notes:** Just a crack!fic-y bit of... crack!fic. Written as a Christmas/Holiday present to m'friend Amblers.

Do please remember to review. The gods of fic love a good reviewer!

**o.o.o.o**

In his sixth year, Draco discovered, much to his horror, that the magical mistletoe at Hogwarts was not the least bit discriminating.

And remarkably uncooperative to poor, unfortunate, desperate young males of certain and highly attractive visages.

Himself, for example.

"Oh, Draco!" cooed the terrifying little first year, batting her eyelashes at him and looking significantly at the ceiling above his head.

This was the _fifth_ girl under third year who'd managed to corner him within the past twenty-four hours alone.

Some of them, like this one, more than once, for Merlin's sake!

(Which in no way came close to the number of upperclassmen, teachers, males, portraits and goddamn _pets_ who had also cornered him, in the past twenty-four hours. Several also more than once.)

And it was only the third day the offending bits of shrubbery had been floating around. There were still two days left till Christmas, and Draco was, justifiably, terrified.

Of course, he was also rather pleased when he realized that his tally was, by all accounts, almost as high as that of Potter or that damn American Defense teacher Dumbledore had hired this year. In fact, it was considerably higher than both in certain aspects -- the number of male victims, to be precise -- which was quite an accomplishment when you took into account that Professor Guyton was _female_.

"_Draco_," repeated the first year, a little sharply this time, and with a resigned sigh, Draco bent and planted a swift peck on her lips.

He wondered, absently and not for the first time, whether 'coercion by mistletoe' was an acceptable plea for the defendant to make in sexual harassment suits. If the parents of these girls ever found out about this stupid kissing business, then he damn well _hoped_ so.

He watched the girl toddle off, quite pleased with herself, and then glared up at the bit of mistletoe above his head.

Really, he was beginning to suspect that that particular sprig was actually _stalking him_. And not, really, to the joy of his Christmas spirit, either.

Unfortunately, he spent too long favoring the mistletoe with his displeased attention, because by the time he returned his eyes to a normal level, he realize that he'd been cornered. Again.

"I say," said the unfamiliar and unforgivably attractive young man, "but you do look like treasure, don't you, poppet?"

Draco blinked.

The man _looked_, quite clearly, like just another Hogwarts student, or possibly teacher, but he sounded... well, quite a bit like a pirate.

And was that _kohl_ around his eyes?

It was.

Draco blinked again. "I _beg_ your pardon?"

"Oh, yes, definitely sparkly," confirmed the man, as if to himself. He grinned, and it made Draco's knees weak, though he suspected rather dolefully that the expression had exactly the same effect on _anyone_ subjected to it.

"I am _not_," Draco insisted, taking an experimental step backwards and glancing up to see if it was enough to throw off the irritating mistletoe. No such luck.

Just the same as the last fifty times he'd tried it.

He sighed mournfully.

The stranger pulled a green apple from somewhere -- certainly not his pocket -- and bit into it, regarding Draco thoughtfully. He swallowed the bite, a bit of juice hanging just off the corner of his mouth, and asked worriedly, "You're not a eunuch, are you?"

Barely, Draco managed not to blink.

"No, I'm not," he assured the stranger. Though, after today, and the day before, and the day before _that_, becoming one was not a particularly unappealing thought. Especially not if it managed to put off his hordes of kiss snatchers.

Hm.

"Good." The man nodded, apparently satisfied, and produced another apple, this one red. "Here, then."

The apple, delectably shiny, red and succulent, was tossed at Draco, who caught it without thinking, and stared at it. "Um..."

"Good for you, apples," said the devastating man, finishing his own apple as if what he'd just said had been a perfectly straightforward explanation.

"Yes," agreed Draco.

He _did_ like apples, after all.

And several of his stalkers were allergic to them.

Around a chuckle, the stranger instructed. "Eat up."

At Draco's baffled expression the man grinned, sending Draco to the floor, and then promptly disappeared, leaving Draco with a mild concussion and... a red apple.

The mistletoe was gone for the moment, though.

Good things apparently came in... pears, Draco decided.


End file.
